What Love Means
by Serpens Femina
Summary: [2007 movieverse] Sam struggles for a definition of the instinct. Bumblebee already knows. [SamxBee]
1. Chapter 1

_Title: _What Love Means_  
Rating: _T_  
Summary: _Sam struggles for a definition of the instinct. Bumblebee already knows.

Sam felt the familiar warm glow in the pit of his stomach as he watched his girlfriend smile at him over her shoulder before she disappeared into the house. This had come to be a Saturday night routine. They would go out to a movie or a club, and Sam would drop Mikaela home shortly before midnight. Having such a curfew imposed by his parents would perhaps have made Sam feel belittled and embarrassed, but Mikaela had never complained about it, so he had never had to confront it, and he was thankful to her for that.

Clubbing hadn't been a hobby of his previously, but then, a lot of things had changed from the picture of how things were only several months ago. There was something about battling metal giants and saving the world that tends to give one confidence, Sam decided. Like driving a sleek Camaro of Class Superior around the streets of Tranquility, and really feeling like he _belonged _in it. No, this wasn't Daddy's Car. This was _his_.

The fact the Camaro was also seventeen feet of conscious alien robot soldier perhaps put a bit of flawed logic in that claim to ownership, but the sentiment was still there. And with a stunning girlfriend to go with the stunning car, Sam decided life was definitely looking good.

It was a mindless drive home. It always was, on Saturday nights, with not much traffic about. Bumblebee always let Sam drive now, whenever he and Mikaela went out. Perhaps it was the bot's way of trying to be unobtrusive. He never spoke, either. Not even through cleverly selected radio tunes. Unobtrusive. Yes, that must be why. After all, dates aren't meant to be for three.

"Sam?"

Sam almost jumped at the break in the silence, but quickly recovered himself from his musings to reply, "Yeah, Bee?"

There was a hesitant silence before Bumblebee's voice came again from the radio, "What does love mean?"

Sam certainly wasn't expecting that. "Uh..." he started eloquently. "It's...well...it's... Don't you have web access to learn about that sort of thing? I mean, definitions, and...stuff?"

"I have tried," Bumblebee said, "but there are so many different interpretations resulting from my searches. It is one word - it must have singular meaning."

"But lots of words can have different meanings," Sam said. "Like, say, 'star'. It's a glowy thing in space, and also someone in a movie lead role, or with some other accomplishment. Plus, it's a shape."

"Yes, but it all comes from one concept," Bumblebee said. "The shape represents the appearance of the space matter from the perspective of your planet, and the person with the accomplishment is titled as a star to metaphorically symbolize their distinction from other people - as space matter is distinct from the surrounding blackness."

"Okay, bad example. But...why does this matter? It's just a word." Even as he said it, he felt like he had made a mistake.

The Camaro was quiet, before he responded, "...I am just trying to understand."

Sam felt bad. It was just a question. Why shouldn't he answer it? After all, he loved Mikaela, didn't he? He should _know _the answer. "Love is...the feeling you get in your gut when you see someone...really important to you. No, wait, it's more than that. It's...it's like..."

Bumblebee was obligingly silent while Sam struggled to find words of adequate description.

"It's surrendering yourself," Sam continued. "Knowing that you'd do anything just to make that person happy."

"That is one interpretation," Bumblebee said. "But you said you love mocha ice cream. How can you make that happy?"

"That's different," Sam said, and flustered as he realized that was the whole point of this conversation. "I mean, I really enjoy it, that's all."

"So to love something, you must simply enjoy it?"

"...No," Sam replied, thinking of his mother when she discovers he hasn't taken the trash out despite her asking twice. "Not necessarily. Sometimes you can love people without even liking them."

"This is a very illogical process."

"Yeah, it makes no sense really," Sam admitted. "People have puzzled over it since the invention of the word. Even before. To say I love ice cream isn't a strictly correct use of the word, I guess. I mean, it's like the star metaphor. People aren't stars. Ice cream can't be loved."

"Love is largely described as a feeling," Bumblebee said, "yet human feelings and emotions are so changeable. Circumstantial."

"Yeah, but love is more than just a feeling. It's just..._more_. Other feelings, like happiness, anger, frustration...they're all dependant on someone's own circumstances. But love is beyond that - it's about someone else. It's when someone else becomes more important than yourself."

"It's feeling with a natural consequence of sacrificial action, then."

"Yeah, I guess," Sam said. "After all, that's what Romeo and Juliet got famous for."

There was a still silence in the car, and Sam presumed Bumblebee was referencing the famous tale online. This was confirmed when the Camaro said, "So one will die for it."

"If it's strong enough. Lesser degrees of love, like crushes, fondness, affection...they're all emotionally significant, but if love is strong enough...yeah, people will die for it."

"Surrendering yourself," Bumblebee repeated Sam's earlier explanation.

"Right, that," Sam said. Now it looked like they were getting somewhere. "Like, if someone would give up everything, just to see someone else happy...if that other person's life was the highest priority...that is love."

"So..." Bumblebee began, "if someone is prepared to commit their life to another in ceaseless devotion, protect them at all costs, prioritize their happiness, even if they must see that person happy with another, and this is the most valuable thing to them...that is love."

"Yeah, that would be the real thing alright," Sam affirmed. "Do you understand what love is, now?"

"Yes, Sam," Bumblebee said quietly, as Sam pulled into his driveway and brought them to a slow stop. "I believe I do."

_A/N: This was written with the intent of being a one-shot, but the story continues now. Still, this works as a stand-alone, I think. I'll be posting the follow-up fics in here as new chapters._


	2. Chapter 2

Continuation of _'What Love Means'_

_Title: _Tell Me Why  
_Rating: _T  
_Summary: _Sam's life was superb. All had seemed perfect, after all. But now...from one realization, everything has changed.

* * *

Sam was mulling over the strange conversation he'd had with Bee earlier that night, as he lay waiting for sleep. Summer nights like these always made it hard to sleep. As it was, he was sprawled on his back, one pajama-covered leg draped over the side of his bed, and the warm haze of the night air drifting through his open window feeling like a blanket on the bare skin of his chest.

What sort of person needs to ask about love? It may be difficult to define, but isn't the sentiment an instinct that everybody knows? It's not just a facet of humanity, after all. _Every _conscious creature knows it. Every sentient being. So why would Bee ask? And if the Autobot really had been after a comprehensive analysis of the word, he could have researched all sorts of writings by philosophers, and drawn conclusions from those.

So why did he need the answer of a teenage boy?

Sam pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. He had the puzzling feeling that he should know something. Something was just..._there_...and he couldn't name it. He almost had it, on the edge of his mind, but...no. Was Bee alright? Was he depressed? Can robots even _get _depressed? Maybe not typical robots, but perhaps the Autobots could. After all, they weren't electronic computers. The spark wasn't electricity. Something like it, sure, but not_ per se_...

It struck Sam just how little he really knew about his robot friend, and in curiosity he crossed the room to sit on his desk and lean out the window. He looked down.

There was the yellow Camaro, faithfully parked in the same place he always was. Bee was the most dedicated friend Sam had ever known. Who else would put everything on hold just to make sure he was always protected?

Again Sam felt the outlines of an answer dancing at the edge of his mind. What was it...?

"Dammit, Bee," Sam whispered, "What aren't you saying?"

Bumblebee remained still and silent. Was he sleeping? How can you tell if a car is sleeping?

This wasn't much different from what he's often like now, Sam mused. Something must be wrong. Why was Bumblebee so...pensive, all the time? And of all things to talk about tonight when he finally _does _speak, it's sacrificial love and selfless priorities-

_There._

_"...that is love..."_

His breath hitched. All thought seemed to stop as the pieces fell into place with such neat simplicity that Sam wondered how he could have taken this long to see it. But...it was just so unreal. Surely not possible. His car?

Of one thing he was sure: sleeping was now absolutely out of the question.

Without stopping to think of what he was going to do when he reached his destination, Sam hurriedly padded down the stairs and out the back door, closing it quietly behind him. Walking around the side of the house, the grass a warm mat under his feet, he drew near to Bumblebee.

The car didn't seem to register his presence.

Sam walked around the Camaro until he faced the darkened headlights. Slowly backing up, eyes never leaving the car, he felt a sharp sting in his left foot, and he hissed as he lifted it to see the dark outline of an embedded thistle. _Dad missed a spot in his meticulous lawn treatment, _Sam thought bitterly as he pulled it out, and rubbed the tender flesh.

Still nothing from the Camaro.

Sam released his foot and folded his arms across his chest, staring solemnly at Bumblebee. He narrowed his eyes.

"You're not asleep."

His words were met with silence, but it definitely seemed heavier than the silence before. Then, "...No."

_Now what?_ Sam toed the grass, feeling the softness beneath his skin, and wondered what came after this. What do you say to a car who just might...love you? He doubted anyone in history had ever had to ask themselves that question.

"And you already knew what love is," he said. "Or as much as anyone is able to know."

No answer.

"So why did you need to ask me?"

"I knew what philosophers and poets think," Bee said. "I wanted to know what _you _think. I..."

It appeared he wasn't going to finish.

"You, what, 'just want to understand'?" Sam fired Bumblebee's earlier conversation back at him, his tone growing heated in confusion and frustration. "Understand what? How did my answer matter more than what wise old men say? Tell me! Go on, tell me why-!"

Sam was cut off by the whirring and clacking of mechanics in motion, and he couldn't help but step back in awe of the droid forming in front of him. It had been so much easier to yell at a car. Now he was standing at the foot of a giant alien monster, and the words died in his throat.

No, not a monster. This was still his Bee. His best friend, right? Then why was he so scared?

_I don't know_, his mind replied._ I'm scared because I don't know. Anything_.

Under the scrutiny of the towering robot, Sam suddenly felt very under-dressed, his over-sized pajama pants puddling at his feet. He reached across his chest to rub the side of his arm nervously.

The Autobot knelt down in front of him, and Sam took another step backward.

"Sam," Bumblebee started. "Please don't be afraid..."

Sam opened his mouth to comment on the absurdity of the request, but all that came out was a rather unmanly squeak.

"...nothing's different," Bumblebee was saying. He cocked his head to the side in a distinctive gesture of contemplation, before he asked, "What upsets you more - that I love you, or that you know?"

Well then. That removed all lingering doubt.

"I- I just-" Sam stuttered. "It's not...normal!"

"Life stopped being normal long ago, didn't it, Sam?"

He had a point there.

"But- how- how can you love me?" Sam asked. "I mean, why? We're different in every sense of the word! Really, every one! Well, except the one..." _...the one where we're both guys...and that doesn't make it any clearer._

"Sam," the robot began, and Sam marveled at how the voice of a towering machine could sound so gentle, "I _know _you. I'm with you every day. I know what angers you, what saddens you, what makes you happy. I'm there for all of it."

"Because it's your _job_."

"Yes," Bumblebee admitted. "It is. But it's a calling that has grown to mean more. It is not just the will of a leader. It is a wish of my own."

Sam swallowed. "Well," he said shakily. "Reasons for your silence whenever I'm with Mikaela suddenly became a lot more clear. Oh, God, Mikaela... What am I meant to say to her?"

"You don't have to say or do anything. Who or what we hold important is our own choice. We each have made them." Bumblebee stood, and within moments had transformed back into his Camaro form. "Nothing has changed."

Sam shook his head slowly and began to walk back to the house. It appeared the conversation was over. For now. "No. No, everything has changed."

Bumblebee said nothing. Surely he didn't expect Sam to still take Mikaela out in the Camaro as if nothing was wrong? Now that Sam knew how Bumblebee felt, he'd be acutely conscious of every word they said around the Autobot. And would it be even possible for Mikaela to never know? Surely it would be inevitable. These things always do have an irritating way of coming out eventually.

Sam had reached the door, but before he went inside, he thought of one more question. "Bee...?"

The car was quiet. Waiting.

"...What did you want to understand?"

Bumblebee was either refusing to reply, or was taking a while to formulate his response. Sam had opened the door to the house and was about to step inside when Bumblebee's voice sounded, "I wanted to understand why, when Mikaela told you she loved you...you didn't say it back."

Oh.

* * *


End file.
